Western Kansas world. [volume] (WaKeeney, Kan.) 1885-current, 1887-09-24
Capturing Birds with q Glass.

James Russell Lowell, in one of his
essays, tells of the great sport he had
at Elmwood in bringing down birds
with an opera-glass. Professor Lowell
preferred the opera-glass to a gun be-
cause it did not hurt the birds and
amused him great deal more. A lady
who passes the hours of long conva-
lescence in observing from her window
those traits which nature reveals only
to those who watch it because they love
1T, and who has before favored the
listener with her observations, sends
the following account of her success in
capturing what she calls a feathered
enigma. It will be noted that her
method of capture closely resembles
Professor Lowell's:
L have captured him at last, the little
tease, that for three summers or more
has haunted the neighboring trees and
tantalized me beyond measure by stub
bornly refusing to reveal his identity.
Day after day have neglected my
work, twisting my neck and straining
my eyes gazing tree-topward, and all in
vain. L have con;ectured to which
family he might belong, but I could
determine nothing with certainty until
now.
He is beautiful creature, about as
long as the hair bird, but more slender,
elegant and @natty" in figure, and very
graceful and sprightly in all his mo-
tons. In color he seems to be of a
nearly uniform olive above and nearly
white beneath, with the suspicion of a
bar upon his wings, and more than the
suspicion Of white band over his eyes.
He is necessarily busy in the elms and
IN the ash across the way, and he sings
almost uninterruptedly from morning
until night, even through the heat of a
midsummer noon. He and the wood
pewee are the only August songters I
know, and last year. after other song
sters had become silent, and my little
friend himself had enjoyed brief re-
spite, he suddenly recovered voice and
ambition and sang as cheerily as ever
for several days after the 10th of Sep
TENDER
But L have not yet introduced my
feathered enigmas by name. He is
called the warbling vireo. Do you
know him? I have been making my
acquaintance bit by bit during the three
years, and to-day the final victory
perched upon my banner, or to be more
explicit, Mr.. Vireo himself perched
upon branch Of the cherry tree, in
full view, and sang to me.
He is confding little fellow and
plucky, too, bearing my scrutiny with
perfect composure; and when mater
familias, on the trail of the buffalo bug,
violently snapped blankets outside the
window within few yards of the porch,
he sang on as gaily as though the
blanket performance was intended for
his amusement solely. Possibly he
fancied it applause.
The song of the vireo is strikingly
like that of the purple finch; it is
briefer, less musical and less ecstatic
than that of the finch, for which it is
often mistaken, but it is very sweet and
clear.
1t is very interesting to compare the
song of a bird in the air with with VIII
son Flagg's representation of the same
upon the gamut, although it takes
keener ear than mine to detect the fine
trills and demi-semi-quavers so fire.
quently interspersed. The sprightly
carol of this tiny vireo is caught very
successfully, but his rendering into the
words, "Brigadier, brigadier, brigadier,
brigate," is not so happy. It is brief
and simple "braid of song" of very mar
row compass, and what most excites
my surprise is the fact that it does not
become monotonous through constant
reiteration; on the contrary, after the
iftieth repetition, I find myself eagerly
awaiting the next, in q vain endeavor
to divine its secret charm. The other
day we heard three or four vireos sing
ing together, but, in different parts Of
the measure. It was a genuine Ground"
chorus and the effect was very odd
Boston TTn,ascrint